


let me call you [beloved]

by iluvzuzu



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Communication, Dean Winchester Has Self-Esteem Issues, Fluff, M/M, What Are We Talk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-07
Updated: 2021-01-07
Packaged: 2021-03-18 14:40:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,403
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28619697
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iluvzuzu/pseuds/iluvzuzu
Summary: i just had this idea rolling around my head of dean accidentally calling cas sweetheart in bed and cas running with it. this is the aftermath of cas calling dean 'beloved' in public. (takes place in a really nebulous timeline, i imagine it just being "after everything" whenever that is for you.)
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 6
Kudos: 81





	let me call you [beloved]

**Author's Note:**

> This opens in a really weird place because I didn't want to write the beginning I only wanted to write the climax and conclusion. What are you, my English teacher? My publisher? No, you're none of those things, so I get to write the segments of the story that I want to write and fuck the rest.   
> I also haven't watched Supernatural since season 8 episode 3. Why was that the final straw? Only past me knows.

Castiel sighs, rubbing a hand over his stubble thoughtfully before meeting Dean’s eyes. “I'm sorry if I embarrassed you,” he says finally. “I just enjoyed the pet name you called me and wanted to return it. I didn't mean for it to be so… dramatic.”

Dean shakes his head, dropping his gaze to Cas’s hands which now hang by his sides, fingers flexing and unflexing like a tic. “No,” he says, “it’s—it’s fine, man, you know.” 

Cas frowns, still thinking. “If you don’t like ‘beloved,’ I can pick a different name. I was reading about them, so I have some on hand.”

This makes Dean’s lips quirk into a smile. “Yeah?” he asks, “like what?”

Cas looks gravely at him and intones, “Shawty.” Dean splutters out a laugh, shaking his head and bringing a hand up to cover his eyes. When he’s able to look at Cas again, Cas is biting back a grin. “I thought that would amuse you,” he tells him, and Dean shakes his head again, still chuckling. “There were others I thought were well-suited,” Cas continues. “I liked ‘honey.’ It reminded me of bees.”

Dean has to swallow some sort of emotion welling up in his throat. “Well, sure,” he says, like of course it does. He can’t keep his eyes off of Castiel’s face now, can’t stop thinking that this all-powerful being might like to be called  _ honey _ . 

“‘Darling’ feels condescending to me,” Cas informs him, and Dean thinks of Crowley and has to hold back a sort of shudder. 

“Noted,” he tells him. 

Cas is sort of pacing now, making gentle half circles around Dean and the doorframe. “‘Baby’ is alright, but it’s already your name for your car, and I would never want to come between the two of you,” he says matter-of-factly. 

Dean stifles a snort and says, “Oh, of course,” trying to even his breathing, which has sped up considerably in the time since Cas said  _ baby  _ and looked him in the eye.

Castiel pauses, smiles, as though he knows what Dean is thinking and feeling. Maybe he does. “There were many that made me think of you,” he says softly. “‘My love.’ ‘My light.’ ‘My life.’” 

Dean’s really struggling to breathe normally now. All he can say, eyes glued to the shadow of Cas’s nose on his cheek from where the sun hits the other side of his face, is, “Huh.” He has to swallow again. His mouth is so dry and his eyes almost wet. Logically, he knows Castiel is an angel; but he really looks it for a second, illuminated from behind by the late afternoon glow.

Cas just smiles wryly and says, “‘Sexy.’” 

Dean chokes. “Sexy!” Normally he wouldn’t argue, but on the heels of  _ my life  _ it’s a little preposterous. 

Castiel turns stern. “You’re very sexy, Dean. It would certainly be appropriate to address you that way. Anyone would agree with me.”

Dean  _ tsks  _ and waves his hands dismissively. “Let’s not bring ‘anyone’ into this,” he says, trying for nonchalance but knowing he’s missing the mark. Sure, he knows he’s sexy; but knowing  _ Cas  _ thinks he’s sexy… that’s a whole new ballgame. 

“So you see how I landed where I did,” Cas explains, “on ‘beloved.’ But if you don’t like it…” He’s watching Dean carefully, and Dean must do something when he says  _ beloved  _ because understanding floods Cas’s deep blue eyes and he tilts his head slightly, frowning. 

“What?” Dean demands, driven more by anxiety than actual anger. “Nothing!” he adds defensively, not even knowing yet what he’s defending against. 

“You  _ do  _ like it,” Cas says, stepping closer to Dean, eyes boring into his cheeks and making them flush. Dean almost takes a step back out of habit but he doesn’t, he doesn’t want to. Standing this close to Castiel feels like something else.  _ It always has _ , he’s thinking. Like a live wire. Like a bonfire. “So then—?” Cas looks at him questioningly, willing him to explain.

He clears his throat. “It’s just not a word that gets thrown around a lot these days,” he says gruffly. “And definitely not in my direction.” 

Castiel purses his lips. “I see,” he says, furrowing his brow. “We’re back to whether you deserve affection.”

This riles Dean up a little. “Look,” he says, on the defensive again, “I know we have… a  _ thing  _ going here. It’s a good thing,” he clarifies, meeting Cas’s narrowing eyes for a brief moment before looking away again. “But you  _ know  _ me, man, I’ve— _ done _ stuff.”

Cas shakes his head, shrugging it off. “So have I. But you called  _ me  _ your sweetheart.”

Dean’s gonna choke on that word, he just knows it. To push through the sensation of his throat closing up on him, he says, “It just slipped out, okay! It doesn’t have to be a whole…  _ thing _ .”

Cas falters a little, and Dean fucking hates himself. “Oh,” Cas says, nodding slowly. “So you… don’t think of me as your sweetheart.” 

“No, I didn’t say that,” Dean insists, but Cas is mentally somewhere else. He’s calculating something, Dean can see it in his eyes, and it’s all he can do not to just screw this conversation and make Cas kiss him again, get his hands under that flannel that he’s pretty sure is actually his own, just  _ act  _ instead of explaining. If he could just  _ do  _ something instead of saying it, Cas would understand. Why is talking always this fucking hard? 

So he grabs Cas’s hand, covers it with his, looks down at them and sighs. “I  _ do…  _ think of you like that, Cas. You have to know that, I do.” Cas relaxes a little, giving him a soft little smile when Dean manages to flick his eyes up to his face, though his brows are still joined in concern. “It’s just,” he tries, “ _ new _ . Not just this thing with us, but  _ all  _ of it. I've never done this before, with  _ anyone _ . Not like this. There’s so much I…” He sighs heavily, thinking of everyone before now, everyone he’s fucked or loved or cared about at all and how none of them measure up. How this thing with Cas is so huge that he can’t see all sides of it at once, can’t get a hold of it. How unpredictable it is, how uncontrollable. When he meets Cas’s eye again, Cas takes his hand back and lifts it to Dean’s arm where his handprint used to be. Dean’s breathless for a moment as Cas strokes his thumb against the fabric of Dean’s shirt, fingers and palm pressing gently but firmly into Dean’s bicep. He huffs out a soft laugh and says, “Guess I’m just worried you have too much, I don’t know. Faith in me.”

Cas draws him closer and raises his hand to cup Dean’s neck, thumb now skimming the line of Dean’s jaw. Dean melts into his hand as Cas murmurs, “Isn’t that what lovers do?”

“Ha,” Dean says weakly. “Yeah. I guess it is.” He has to swallow before confessing, “I've never really had… that kind of—lover, before.”

Cas’s smile is still soft, but so wide it makes his eyes crinkle, and he takes Dean’s hand in his free one, twining their fingers together. Dean couldn’t tear his eyes away from Cas’s now if somebody begged him to. “Would you like me to call you that, then?” Cas asks him softly, earnestly matching Dean’s gaze. “Lover, beloved? To tell you what I’d do, if you’d allow it? How every part of you, every corner of your body and mind and soul are… precious to me? How if you’d let me, I would kiss the lids of your eyes, the joint of your knee? The pulse points of your wrist, your throat, your groin?”

Dean exhales shakily.  _ What do you say to that? _ “Groin, huh?” is what comes out, and Cas makes a face. 

“I’m quite serious,” he grumbles.

Dean nods slowly, looking at their joined hands and then back up at Cas’s face. “Yeah,” he tells him, barely a whisper. 

Cas quirks his head a little and asks, as though for clarification, “Yeah…?”

Dean’s nodding, flexing the fingers threaded through Cas’s and gripping his hand tighter. “I’d like you to,” he murmurs, “To tell me that. Call me that.”

“Beloved?” Cas whispers, and Dean doesn’t know whether he’s answering the question or just responding to his name when he says, “yes.”

  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> "Let me call you Sweetheart  
> I'm in love with you  
> Let me hear you whisper  
> That you love me too  
> Keep the love light glowing  
> In your eyes so blue  
> Let me call you Sweetheart  
> I'm in love with you"


End file.
